Wilbur
by StarBellySneetch
Summary: Brennan makes a surprising new friend at a crime scene. Booth discovers just how helpless he is to her every whim.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Bones belongs to Fox.

It was a warm, sunny spring day- the kind of day everyone dreams about all winter long. The sky was an impossibly bright, clear blue and the few perfectly white and fluffy clouds never seemed to cross paths with the sun. The temperature was in the low seventies and the breeze held no memory of winter's biting cold. A beautiful day. A perfect day.

This was exactly the sort of day Agent Booth loved to have Parker on. They could go to the park and play catch. They could go fishing in the stream or harass the duckies at the pond. They could even possibly catch a baseball game- Parker had never been to a major league baseball game, and today would be an ideal opportunity to introduce him to peanuts, cracker jacks, and yelling at the umpire.

Of course, "would be" were the key words there.

Booth exhaled slowly, his hand dangling out of the open driver's seat window, fingers drumming on the smooth black paint of his SUV. It was the first time in weeks the weather had permitted him to drive with the windows down, and he would be spending his day starting up a new and probably depressing case. The feeling inside him was reminiscent of the feeling he got as a high school kid when he was sitting in a classroom at the end of the school year, the first warm tendrils of summer creeping through the window, seducing all thoughts away from school work.

_Look on the bright side..._he thought to himself bitterly. _It's not your weekend with Parker, so you wouldn't be spending time with him even if you weren't working._

And yet, there were worse ways he could be spending his day. He glanced away from the road for a second to look over at his partner in the passenger seat. Temperance Brennan's head was leaning slightly against the door, directed towards the open window so that she could fully take advantage of the warm spring breeze. Her eyes were shut, either in contemplation or sheer enjoyment. The sun was bright on her auburn curls, making them shiny like copper.

There were definitely worse ways he could be spending his day.

"Man..." he said, breaking the comfortable silence that permeated the SUV. "What a day, huh Bones?"

Her eyes opened and she straightened in her seat, regarding him with a small smile.

"It's nice out," she agreed briefly, her eyes scanning the perfect skyline.

"The first day of spring..." Booth sighed happily.

He didn't need to turn his head to know that Brennan was looking at him with that "too-smart-for-her-own-good" gleam in her eyes.

"You know Booth," she began, her tone all too familiar. "The first day of spring was actually back in March. The twenty-first to be exact."

He removed his sunglasses for the sole purpose of giving her a look.

"The first _real_ day of spring," he amended. "Happy now?"

He looked over, but she had closed her eyes again, a slight smirk now on her face. Feeling a smile tugging his own lips, he turned his eyes back to the road. He executed a careful right turn onto a bumpy country lane. A few large, brightly striped tents loomed in the distance. They were almost at their crime scene.

* * *

Gravel crunched under the wheels of the SUV as Booth parked. Brennan looked around interestedly as she unbuckled. They were at a small fairground. It was mostly abandoned, its polyester tents glinting in the cheery sunlight. The only other occupants were a few disgruntled overall-clad farmers and the crime scene investigation crew.

"What is this place?" Brennan asked as she retrieved her kit from the backseat.

Booth deftly shut the door behind him, taking in the scene.

"Annual 4H fair," he said, watching her as she gathered her things. "Big farmer gathering."

He waited until she caught up beside them, and they approached the scene side-by-side. The few farmers there looked less than enthusiastic about their presence.

"Must not be a very good fair." Brennan commented. "There isn't anyone here."

Booth sighed and put his hand on Brennan's elbow, directing her towards the green and yellow striped tent to their left.

"We shut them down Bones," he said, keeping his tone patient. "Or else you'd gut me for letting a bunch of farm kids stomp all over your human remains."

He held up the yellow crime scene tape that blockaded off the entrance to the tent so Brennan could pass under.

"I would never gut you," she said absently. "Throttle you maybe."

Her eyes narrowed at the spot marked off in the corner of the tent, and she determinedly strode over. Booth followed slowly. In Brennan's quick shift into her crime scene mode, he had been unable to catch whether or not she had been joking with him.

He stood behind her at a safe distance, watching as she automatically swept her hair up into a ponytail and snapped latex gloves on her hands. Underneath the bed of hay that covered the packed dirt floor, a skeleton was visible. Brennan's hand swept delicately over the skull, brushing off wayward pieces of straw.

"These remains are in an extremely advanced stage of decomposition," she said, continuing to remove the straw obstructing her view. "There's neither soft tissue nor connective tissue left on any of the bones."

She opened her kit and liberated a small brush. With practiced ease, she began to brush the bones clean.

"So how long do you think they've been here?" Booth asked, peering over her shoulder.

Brennan looked up at him, her mouth twisting slightly as she considered her answer.

"It's difficult to say," she replied finally. "But taking into account that the weather has only begun to warm up in the past couple days, I'd estimate that these remains were placed here before winter. Otherwise they'd be better preserved."

She paused a moment to tilt her head at the now fully exposed skeleton.

"These remains are at least three months old," Brennan said, leaning in to examine the pelvis. "They were poorly covered. How is it they weren't found sooner?"

"These tents stay up year round, but are only used for one week a year," Booth explained. "Some kid came in the other day to replace the hay for the fair and discovered these."

He swept his hand in front of him to indicate the bones.

"So they could have been placed here anywhere from three months ago to one year ago?" Brennan asked, her eyes focused on the sciatic notch.

Booth nodded in agreement. He took a step back as Brennan stood, swiping hay and dirt off her jeans.

"Sciatic notch and iliac crest indicate female," she stated. "Twenty-five to thirty years old. Skull structure suggests Caucasian."

She stood with her hands on her hips, her voice confident as always.

"Any sign of foul play?" he asked.

"Skull shows signs of fracturing," she told him. "But I can't be sure of cause of death until we have the remains back at the lab."

"You ready for the CSI crew?" he asked her.

Greenish-blue, calculating eyes swept over the skeleton once more before she nodded and picked up her bag.

"I want the remains bagged along with soil samples," she said. "And I want them to comb through the hay. See if we can find any traces of clothing."

Booth nodded and touched her briefly on the back.

"I'll go tell them."

Booth stepped out of the tent and into the beautiful day. The CSI crew was awaiting his orders by the van. He instructed them carefully and thoroughly, reminding them that if they made any blunders, Dr. Brennan would have their heads. He momentarily watched them as they gathered up their gear.

After a minute, he shifted his attention to the group of farmers, standing with their arms crossed in a group. He walked over, flashing his badge. It took a mere ten minutes to record their names and numbers. There would be plenty of time for more serious interrogation later.

As he sauntered away from the grumbling farmers, he hooked his thumbs in his belt impatiently.

_What's taking her so long?_ he wondered, looking to the tent where he had left Brennan.

Again, he ducked under the yellow crime scene tape to pop his head into the striped tent. It took less then ten seconds of assessment to determine that Brennan was not inside.

"Where'd Bones go?" he snapped at the closest CSI.

The CSI flinched at Booth's sharp tone.

"Dr. Brennan wasn't in here when we entered," he said, quickly moving away.

It still amazed Booth how quickly the knot of panic could twist his insides when it came to his partner. He strode out of the tent quickly and his eyes immediately scanned the open space between the tents. No Bones. He jogged over to the next tent.

"Bones?" he half-shouted into the gaping opening of the tent.

Nothing. Cursing under his breath he moved on to the next one. It was empty. The panic tightened his throat. Now practically running, he headed towards the largest tent. In his mind possible reasons for her sudden disappearance fired off, each more ludicrous than the last. He tried to be rational, but when it came to Bones, rationality wasn't really his thing.

As he entered the big tent, his senses were immediately assaulted with the sound, smell, and sight of farm animals. His eyes frantically looked over the rumps of cattle, the curly coats of sheep, and the blunt little horns of goat before settling on a slim woman leaning over one of the metal fences, auburn curls escaping her hair tie. Brennan.

His sigh of relief was mingled with slight anger and annoyance. Did she always have to run off like that? Did she have any idea what it did to him? Flicking off his sunglasses, he made his way over, clenching his teeth.

The crunch of hay under his shoes made his presence known to Brennan and she swung around. She was smiling and the effect was so immediate, Booth literally stopped in his tracks. Her eyes were sparkling, he noticed. His annoyance melted away.

"Booth!" she exclaimed, her voice colored with rare excitement. "Come look."

When he remained immobilized, she strode up to him and grabbed his arm with both hands. She guided him over to the metal fence.

"Look," she whispered, letting go of his arm to point.

Inside the fence, laying on a bed of dirty hay, was a tiny pink lump. Upon further inspection, Booth realized it was an extremely undersized piglet. It gave a tiny snort and stood on minuscule little hooves to examine the two humans peering at him from the other side of the fence.

"You like him?" a man's voice asked from behind them.

Booth and Brennan swiveled around. It was one of the farmers, a tall, bulky man. Booth had spoken to him barely a minute ago, but in the panic of losing Bones, had forgotten his name. Owen, something? His voice had a strong southern accent. He held a large rubber bottle in his hand.

"You can feed him if you like," he said. "I was just about to do it myself."

Booth put his hands up defensively, shaking his head no.

"I'll do it," Brennan offered, stretching her hand out to take the bottle.

Booth turned to her in surprise, but she wasn't paying attention to him. She had already swung herself over the gate and was sitting in the dirty hay, her hands reaching to the little runty piglet. The tiny thing squealed hungrily and climbed into her lap, feet leaving muddy hoove prints on her pants. It suckled at the bottle happily, milk dribbling down its snout and onto Brennan's crisp, clean blouse.

"Well look at that," the farmer remarked, moving to stand next to Booth. "Couldn't get the damned thing to eat myself. Guess it just took a lady's touch, eh?"

But Booth wasn't listening. Brennan was looking at the dirty little piglet with a shiny look in her eyes that made his throat ache. What wouldn't he give to have that same expression directed at him. To his surprise, he felt a prick of jealousy.

_Jealous of a pig Seeley?_ he taunted himself. _Man I must be losing it._

The hungrily little piglet finished its bottle and shoved its snout happily in Brennan's face. She laughed as it sniffed her ear.

"Where are its brothers and sisters?" she asked the farmer, now standing with the piglet in her arms. "It's highly unusual for a sow to have only one offspring at a time."

The farmer laughed a self-satisfied laugh.

"I sold the mama pig and the four other piglets yesterday," he proclaimed proudly. "The mama was a fat old thing. Bet she made a fine ham steak. Her piglets should make nice big Christmas hams by the time December rolls around."

Brennan had frozen. The piglet squirmed in her arms.

"But that one there," the farmer said, indicating the little runt. "Too small. Nobody wants him. I tried to fatten him up but it's seeming pretty hopeless. It's gonna be drowning for that one."

A look of disgusted anger crossed Brennan's face and her eyes iced over. Booth inwardly groaned. He had a bad feeling that he knew where this was headed.

"I'll buy him," she stated, her chin tilted in defiance.

The farmer regarded her doubtfully.

"This one'll barely make enough bacon for one breakfast," he told her. "He ain't worth the effort."

She glared at him.

"I don't intend on _eating_ him," she hissed.

The farmer seemed stunned by her vehemence and looked to Booth questioningly. Booth sighed and reached over to pat Brennan on the shoulder.

"Calm down, okay Bones?" he whispered. "He's a farmer for crying out loud, not a murderer."

She looked at him over the head of the little pig she was clutching to her chest.

"He was going to _drown_ him Booth," she said emphatically.

"Yea, well that's what farmers do to runts," Booth replied bluntly.

Brennan defensively pulled herself to her full height.

"Just because he deviates from the standard weight and size of a normal piglet doesn't mean-" she started, her voice rising with anger.

Booth cut her off.

"Okay, okay Bones. I get it," he sighed wearily. "You're in love with the little piggy."

She gave him a withering look and turned her back to him. He heard her mumbling softly to the little thing and scratching it behind its ears. Booth sighed yet again and looked back to the farmer. The farmer was watching Brennan and mentally taking note of the way she tenderly held the runty little thing. Booth could almost see the little cash signs going off in the farmer's bald head.

"Well I guess I can sell you the runt," he began casually.

Brennan turned around immediately.

"How much?" she asked, setting the piglet at her feet.

The pink little thing squealed and weaved around Brennan's feet.

"Wouldn't settle for less than one fifty," the farmer declared. "That piglet came from a line of the best swine on my farm."

"A dollar fifty?" Brennan asked, her brow furrowing.

The farmer laughed.

"That'd be a hundred fifty," he corrected.

Booth whistled lowly. Brennan's mouth gaped open. Her eyes darted between Booth and the farmer, outraged.

"But-but..." she sputtered. "You were just going to drown him!"

The farmer shrugged.

"Either take it or leave it."

Booth resisted the urge to smile as Brennan huffily pulled out her wallet. There was no way she would blow that much money on that puny thing. He watched her as she opened the flap. Her face fell.

"I must have..." she whispered to herself. "I thought I..."

The farmer was watching her.

"If you don't have the money now, you might as well leave," he said hooking his thumbs on the straps of his overalls.

She put her wallet away dejectedly and turned to Booth.

"Sorry Bones..." he said, touching her briefly between her shoulder blades. "Tough luck, eh?"

Brennan looked up at him, her teeth dragging across her bottom lip. Her eyes looked slightly moist. He could count the number of times he had seen Brennan cry on one hand. Booth found himself unable to turn away. The second her teeth released her bottom lip, it trembled slightly.

"Booth..." she pleaded softly.

_No, no, no..._ he thought. _I don't get paid for another four days and I'm down to my last two hundred...Not happening..._

The corners of her lips turned down involuntarily. An unshed tear clung to a thick eyelash. Cursing silently, Booth pulled out his wallet.

* * *

Ten minutes later, and one hundred and fifty dollars lighter, Booth steered the SUV away from the crime scene, an impossibly happy Temperance Brennan sitting next to him. The dirty thing snorted enthusiastically on her lap. It put its front hooves on the dashboard, leaving minuscule, muddy hoove prints. She laughed at his antics and turned to Booth to see if he found it as endearing as she did. He managed to conjure up a weak grin.

"Well, you got your Jasper Bones," he said as it settled down in her lap to sleep.

Brennan frowned slightly, patting the piglet.

"Jasper?" she said softly. "No, I already have a Jasper."

Booth felt a stab of tenderness for the woman and he smiled at her, this time sincerely. She was still stroking the little piglet, which was now sound asleep.

"You're a regular Fern aren't you Bones?" Booth teased gently.

He was prepared for the confused look.

"I'm a fern?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at him.

Booth shook his head.

"Fern, Bones. It's the name of the little girl in Charlotte's Web?" he explained. "You know, the best selling children's book? Pig named Wilbur?"

"You read children's books Booth?" Brennan bantered.

"I have a kid Bones," he reminded her.

They lapsed into silence. Brennan scratched the piglet behind the ears, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Wilbur," she said finally. "I think I like that."

**Author's note: **Maybe a one shot...maybe not. Up to you all I guess.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, sitting on Brennan's plush couch with the case notes spread on the coffee table, Seeley Booth wondered miserably how this could have happened.

Brennan's new pet pig Wilbur had been a hit at the lab two days ago when Brennan and Booth had brought him back from the crime scene. Zach and Hodgins were beyond excited about the stupid thing- after all, a piglet was a step up from the pet beetles they loved to race. Angela, of course, adored Wilbur; she cuddled and cooed at it with the same sort of attention one would give a human baby. Even Cam, surprisingly, took to the little guy and allowed Brennan to keep it in her office the entire day.

But that was not the issue.

The thing that really irked Booth was that the little piglet loved all of them back. Wilbur loved everyone. Everyone except him, obviously.

Booth frowned down at the little pig that stood between him and the kitchen where Brennan was searching her medicine cabinets for band-aids. It had _bitten_ him. Hard. It now seemed to be baring its little teeth at him, as if daring him to get up and take even a step closer to his beloved owner. Booth glared at Wilbur, stung with injustice. He had paid for the damn thing hadn't he? If it weren't for him, the pig would be swimming with the fishies right about now.

Brennan returned from the kitchen, a band-aid and a tube of antibiotics in her hands. Wilbur squealed excitedly at her return and Brennan smiled down at the pig. She dropped the band-aids and antibiotic into Booth's lap unceremoniously and sat across from him. Wilbur put his little hooves on the edge of Brennan's chair and she lifted him up allowing him to settle into her lap with content little snorts.

Booth glanced sourly at her.

"By the way you're treating him," Booth began grumpily. "You'd think _he_ was the one that got bitten."

Brennan rolled her eyes and patted Wilbur's round belly. She had only had him for two days and already he seemed to be developing a potbelly.

"Booth, it was just a little nip," she said complacently.

Booth waved his cut finger around a bit.

"It's _bleeding_ Bones!" he exclaimed emphatically.

"Yea, well don't get blood on the couch," Brennan replied calmly.

Booth scowled at her and sloppily wrapped the band-aid around his finger. When he was done, he took a moment to give Wilbur, who was snuggled oh-so-cozily in his partner's lap, a dirty look.

"Your pig hates me," Booth announced glumly.

Brennan sighed and gave him the kind of look one usually reserves for particularly dim children.

"Booth," she stated. "He is a _pig_. He doesn't _hate_ anyone. You must have scared him or something. He wouldn't bite you without a reason."

Sullenly, Booth ignored this and pretended to be reviewing the case notes. He hadn't been doing anything to scare the piglet when he was bitten. The pig, as always, had been sitting in Brennan's lap content as could be when Booth had merely leaned in close to his partner so she too could see the crime scene photos. The little devil had _attacked_ his finger.

"He hates me," Booth concluded out loud. "Why else would he have bitten me?"

Since Booth had chosen to ignore her reasoning, Brennan now chose to ignore him. She cupped her chin in her hand and stared idly somewhere to Booth's left, absently stroking Wilbur. Booth plowed on, oblivious to the fact that he was being ignored.

"Out of all the people he could have chosen to hate…" Booth stewed. "Hodgins dropped him, remember? And Angela, she tried to get him to wear that ridiculous bow. What have I done to him? Nothing. In fact, if it weren't for me, he'd be bacon by now. I spent nearly two hundred dollars of _my_ paycheck for a pig that hates me."

By now Brennan was paying attention and she got to her feet, thoroughly annoyed with Booth's outburst. Huffily, she placed Wilbur on the floor and walked over to her purse, pulling out her wallet.

"Here then," she snapped, holding out crisp dollar bills in her hand. "Take the money."

Booth got to his feet also, putting his hands out defensively.

"Aw, come on Bones," he said, trying for a cajoling tone. "I told you that you didn't have to pay me back. Put the money away, okay?"

Brennan stuffed the money back in her wallet somewhat violently and glared at him, hands on her hips.

"You keep telling me you don't want your money back, and yet you keep whining about it," Brennan spat. "So forgive me if I'm a little confused."

They both took a step closer, a sure indicator that this was heading into a full blown argument.

"I merely brought up the money to make a point. I should be the last person your pig hates," Booth explained heatedly.

"Well I'm very sorry you wasted your money," Brennan said with scathing sarcasm. "Next time, don't even bother."

Booth pointed a finger emphatically at Brennan.

"Next time," he said. "Don't cry and then _I_ won't have to waste _my_ money."

When Brennan's mouth gaped open defensively, Booth smiled smugly, sure that he had gained the upper hand in the argument. She swatted his accusing, band-aid covered finger out of her way and took a menacing step forward.

"I was not crying," she stated stonily.

Booth, now enjoying this, made an uncertain face.

"I dunno Bones…" he drawled, shaking his head mockingly. "I definitely saw tears in those eyes."

He stuck his lip out in an exaggerated pout and made his chin wobble. Brennan gave him a little shove when he began making horrendous, feminine weeping noises.

"For your information," Brennan growled through clenched teeth. "I'm highly allergic to hay. Whenever I get near it, my eyes get all red and teary, so if you think I was crying-"

Booth interrupted her with a high pitched sob. Brennan stared at him, marble-like.

"Booth," she began matter-of-factly. "If you're trying to make me laugh, you might as well give up."

But giving up seemed to be the last thing on his mind. With yet another dramatized sobbing fit, Booth flung his head onto Brennan's shoulder. Rolling her eyes, she attempted to push it off, but Booth began sniffling loudly and grabbed the sleeve of her shirt, pretending to wipe his eyes and nose on it.

Brennan couldn't help it. She smiled.

"Okay Booth," she said, suppressing laughter. "You can stop now."

But Brennan's tone, free of anger, only seemed to encourage him to continue his teasing. He let out another fake, girly sob, and rubbed his face on Brennan's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry Bones," he trilled in a high-pitched, weepy voice. "It's just that… small, adorable, baby animals touch my heart so much that I can't stop the tears from coming."

Embarrassed, but laughing, Brennan shoved Booth hard enough to knock him onto the couch. He, however, maintained his grip on her, causing her to tumble onto the couch also, ending up halfway in his lap. Both of them were laughing too hard to be uncomfortable with their position, and without preamble, they began untangling themselves.

That's when it happened. Wilbur bit Booth again.

"Ouch, dammit," Booth exclaimed.

This time Wilbur had bitten Booth's hand, but it at least didn't seem to be bleeding. Brennan picked him up apologetically and moved him away from Booth.

"Wilbur, what was that for?" Brennan asked the pig in a bewildered tone.

The pig merely looked up at her adoringly. Brennan looked from her adoring piglet to Booth, who was holding his hand and looking wounded at the fact that he had gotten bitten twice, and still Wilbur was the one being showered with affection. Something seemed to click in Brennan's mind.

"Wilbur doesn't like you Booth," Brennan suddenly realized.

Booth's face turned sour.

"Gee Bones, thanks for the sudden epiphany," he grumbled.

Brennan put a hand up to stop him.

"Let me finish Booth," she said sternly. "Wilbur doesn't like you because he's jealous of you."

Booth let the words sink in. The pig? Jealous? Of him? He scratched his chin. Well, in a way it made perfect sense. He was bigger than the pig. He was definitely better looking than the pig. He was in Brennan's life way before the pig ever came into the picture.

Still, Booth considered, looking at the pig nestled in Brennan's arms right underneath her breasts. If he and the pig were competing for Brennan's attention, the pig seemed to be holding its own.

"I know!" Brennan said suddenly, causing Booth to snap back into attention. "I bet if I left you two alone for a little while, he'd warm up to you!"

She set the pig down on the ground, and it immediately looked grumpy to be out of Brennan's arms. Booth looked down at it uncertainly.

"I don't know Bones…" he began.

But she was already grabbing her keys and heading towards the door.

"I'm just going to go check my mail," she explained on her way out. "I won't be long."

The door clicked shut behind her and all was quiet except for the sound of Wilbur's discontent snorts. Booth frowned moodily at it. He was at a loss. How do you win a pig over? There was no way he was going to reach down to Wilbur… he'd been bitten two too many times already today.

Booth began thinking. What in the world would make this pig like him? Suddenly it came to him.

"Got it!" Booth said, getting off the couch excitedly and heading into the kitchen. "Food! Why didn't I think of that before?"

He rummaged around in Brennan's fridge. Vaguely, he noticed the pig several feet behind him, lifting its tiny snout in the air to sniff interestedly. Booth's hand finally closed on a stray cup of applesauce that was hidden behind the milk in the back of the fridge. He figured Brennan wouldn't miss it.

"Okay Wilbur," Booth said, removing the foil lid. "I'm giving you a peace offering so I suggest you take it."

Booth bent down and held out the applesauce. Wilbur's hooves made tiny clicking noises as he hurried over and buried his snout into the fruit. With Wilbur's mouth occupied, Booth felt confident enough to wrap one hand around the pig's midriff, lifting him, while the other held the food in place. He settled back down in the living room with the pig on his lap.

When the pig finished licking the plastic cup clean, Booth set it aside nervously, hoping the pig wouldn't decide to snack on his fingers next. But to Booth's surprise, the pig merely stuck its hooves onto Booth's chest and sniffed his face curiously. Tentatively, Booth patted the pig's smooth, pink skin.

"See?" Booth told the pig. "I'm not so bad."

The pig responded by sticking its snout into his ear.

"Whoa there," Booth said, somewhat uncomfortable.

He settled the pig back down on his lap, where it looked up at him expectantly. Booth cleared his throat and put on a serious voice.

"Still," he spoke sternly, amazed that he didn't feel more ridiculous. "It's important that you learn how to share. I knew Brennan way before you, buddy."

The pig snorted and Booth was almost positive he saw a clear, annoyed message in his eyes. _Hypocrite_, it said. Booth sighed.

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "I guess I can learn to share too."

It was then that Brennan walked in, a small stack of mail in her hands. When she saw Booth and the pig, she beamed and deposited the mail on a side table.

"I knew it!" she claimed, in a self-satisfied tone. "I knew if I left, you two would get along."

"Yea, well…" Booth said, patting the pig grudgingly. "The applesauce helped too."

But Brennan wasn't listening. She put a hand on Booth's shoulder to balance herself and leaned down to kiss Wilbur right on his snout. Her eyes shone with pure adoration for the little pig, and as Brennan leaned down to kiss the pig again again, her hair brushing against the underside of Booth's chin and her warm hand wrapped around his shoulder, Booth couldn't help but feel a little fond of Wilbur too.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, most people seem to like Wilbur, so I figured I'd write another chapter. It's really fun to write this story so it's possible that I'll add more to it. I got the idea for this one because I have a pet that attacks anyone who comes near me. God help the man I marry.


End file.
